Chapter 14: The Gathering Storm |
Li Shun silently repeated those seven words several times in his heart, his brows lifting slightly.
“Just these seven words are worth five leaves?”
Zhou Xunzhen leaned back into his chair, his expression unreadable. After a long pause, he let out a faint sigh.
“You only see these seven light, fleeting words on the surface. What you don’t see is the centuries of bloodshed behind them. Countless bones piled high, storms of slaughter that never ceased.”
Li Shun fell into thought, a chill faintly creeping into his heart.
“It seems this Zhou Xunzhen carries quite the story himself…”
At that moment, a sliver of dawn light slipped through the crack of the door, slanting inward and landing squarely on Zhou Xunzhen’s composed profile. In that boundary between light and shadow, Li Shun suddenly noticed something unusual.
In just a few short days, the corners of Zhou Xunzhen’s eyes, once as smooth as jade, now bore faint, fine wrinkles. His entire demeanor carried a subtle air of decline, like the setting sun nearing the horizon.
“You seem to stay inside this bookshop all the time. I’ve never seen you step outside,” Li Shun asked, almost without thinking.
“When one remains in a bookshop, one’s world shrinks to this tiny, peaceful space. The only concerns are a few incomplete scrolls and a handful of trivial profits. Though the days are dull and monotonous, at least the soul remains at ease.”
“But if one steps outside…”
He tilted his head upward, gazing at the dust motes drifting in the beam of sunlight. His voice gradually lowered.
“The mortal world is turbulent, ever churning. Desire clouds the heart… and takes lives.”
Li Shun nodded, as if understanding, though not entirely.
“That’s enough. You may leave now.”
As if realizing he had spoken too much, Zhou Xunzhen’s face showed a trace of fatigue. For once, he issued a clear dismissal.
Li Shun paid it no mind. He cupped his fists in farewell and turned to leave.
…
When he returned to his small courtyard, the gate remained tightly shut, just as before. The lock was intact, with no sign that anything had gone wrong.
Just as Li Shun took out his key to open the door, a sudden, thunderous roar of galloping hooves echoed from the far end of the street.
His heart tightened as he looked over.
A squad of black-armored cavalry, radiating a fierce and oppressive aura, was charging down the long street toward the county yamen at full speed.
“Is that… the escort that sent Old Feng back home?” Li Shun’s pupils shrank. “No… that’s impossible. Even by their pace, they couldn’t have returned this quickly.”
“What’s happened now?”
He muttered under his breath, standing at the doorway until the cavalry vanished completely from sight. Only then did he slip into the courtyard and firmly lock the gate behind him.
Night fell, and the day drew to a close.
Inside his room, Li Shun had written a rebellious verse to test whether he was being monitored. It sank without a trace, like a stone dropped into the sea.
Only then did he finally relax.
“I examine myself thrice each day!”
As his voice rang out, time once again reversed.
Second Reflection.
At dawn, Li Shun rose early as usual and paid another visit to the Jixia Bookshop.
This time, instead of asking about the Cycle of Twelvefold Longevity Methods, he continued purchasing fragmented pages of the *Record of Emperor''s Exegesis.
[Year Two of the New Calendar: Minister of Works Gongshu Ji presented a memorial to the throne, saying:
“Your servant observes that the land is fragmented, with mountains and rivers crisscrossing, forming countless natural barriers. This has hindered governance and obstructed imperial authority. I humbly request the conscription of laborers to carve roads through mountains and build bridges over rivers. Let official roads weave across the Nine Provinces, gathering the qi of the land within them.
“With fine horses and light carriages traveling upon them, one could ride the wind and clouds, departing at dawn and arriving by dusk. In this way, the might of the empire may reach all corners of the world in an instant, and the realm would lie within the palm of one’s hand.”
The Qian Emperor was greatly pleased, deeming it a merit that would last for ten thousand generations. He issued an edict to conscript a million laborers, carving through mountains, filling valleys, and channeling qi into formation arrays. Thus, construction surged across the land. Laborers were displaced, and the very essence of mountains and rivers was forever altered.]
This fragment recorded the construction of the empire’s vast network of official roads in the early days of the Great Qian Dynasty.
Since transmigrating into this world, Li Shun had never once left Lengshan County.
Naturally, he had never seen these imperial roads with his own eyes.
However, within the original owner’s memories, there still lingered a trace of awe and reverence toward the imperial roads.
“Ordinary laborers traveling upon the official roads, even without carriages or mounts, can cover two hundred li in a single day without feeling fatigue.”
“The Great Qian’s official roads span the five lakes and four seas, reaching every corner of the realm. Even a place as utterly remote as Lengshan County is still connected…”
“It can truly be called an achievement that will endure for ten thousand generations.”
“To arrive in an instant, to hold the world within one’s grasp… such a feat indeed deserves to be known as a merit that suppresses all under heaven for ages to come.”
Li Shun understood all too well the importance of efficient transportation and communication for a vast empire, and he could not help but nod inwardly.
After putting away the torn page and leaving the bookshop, he arrived at the street corner, where history repeated itself. Once again, he ran straight into the returning Black-Armored Army rushing past.
This time, in that fleeting moment as they brushed shoulders, Li Shun clearly caught the grave and heavy expressions on their faces.
After careful consideration, and relying on the fact that he still had one final chance to reverse everything, he decided to quietly investigate.
Yet he had not expected…
Before he could uncover even the slightest bit of reliable inside information, disaster struck instead.
By dusk, with a thunderous bang, the gates of Li Shun’s new residence were violently kicked open.
A squad of constables stormed in, brimming with killing intent.
At their head, Constable Wu Kuang narrowed his eyes and sized Li Shun up from head to toe, then sneered as he waved his hand.
His subordinates immediately pounced like starving wolves, twisting Li Shun’s arms behind his back and restraining him with brute force.
“Sirs, I’ve been wronged!” Li Shun cried out in feigned terror.
Wu Kuang let out a cold snort, his eyes filled with cruelty. “Wronged? You, a lowly laborer, have been prying into military secrets all over the streets today. What exactly are you plotting?”
“I’ve long suspected there was something off about you, you old rat. Last time that useless Sun Wu failed to get anything out of you. Now that you’ve fallen into my hands, I’ll make sure you beg for death and find none!”
Wu Kuang had no patience to hear Li Shun’s defense. He stuffed a filthy rag into his mouth, gagging him completely, and dragged him all the way to the deepest depths of Lengshan Prison.
What followed was another round of inhumane torture.
The methods were even more brutal than before, leaving his flesh torn and bloodied beyond recognition.
Yet Li Shun’s consciousness remained safely hidden within the Fangcun space, completely unharmed.
“Military secrets?”
“Just asking a few questions is already taboo…”
Watching his own battered body from afar with cold detachment, a thoughtful glint flickered in Li Shun’s eyes.
The Third Reflection.
A new day arrived, and Li Shun once again returned safely to his residence.
Carefully recalling everything he had witnessed “yesterday,” he faintly sensed an ominous tension, like dark clouds pressing down on the city before a storm.
“It seems something major is about to happen in Lengshan County again.”
“I must prepare in advance.”
Li Shun’s gaze turned deep and resolute. Without the slightest hesitation, he summoned the puppet “Li Shun” and ordered it to begin digging a tunnel in a concealed location.
“This time, it needs to go deeper.”
Perhaps due to repeatedly summoning and retracting the puppet in recent days, Li Shun noticed that his soul had gradually adapted. The tearing pain that once felt unbearable was now far less intense.
For some reason, as he watched the tireless puppet working in silence, a faint, mysterious intuition rose within his heart.
Perhaps the day when he would open that new region within the Fangcun space, still shrouded in white mist… was not far off.
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